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Stories of acculturation.

So I was chatting with my bff, debriefing and trying to get a handle on this place and my place in it, and we realized the humor in some of my stories…

Here’s my most embarrassing moment thus far: I was stressed the other day, trying to get some information from one of the artists exhibiting in the Biennial. I got pulled away by unfinished business I had with this young Emirati fellow with whom I work. Being the sweet man he is, he was taking his time, incorporating a bit of chatting, and I started to get stressed. “Please! Hurry!” He read my distress, asked me sign, and sent me off. In my haste, and I smiled widely – “thank you!” And followed it up by blowing a kiss.

Ummm....yeah. I blew a kiss to an Emirati in a country where some men, even boys (okay, the ones I’m talking about are super religious), won’t even get into the elevator with me. (I have mixed feelings about that: one the one hand, it’s annoying that even a prepubescent teen thinks he should stay away; on the other, I’m glad for the privacy. I can see the value in wearing a burka, for it allows you to exist anonymously in a place, to look, watch and listen without offering others the same privilege. Anyways…) I ran out the door, rather mortified. But being an understanding fellow, he didn’t take it seriously, and thought it was kinda funny. I went about my day, which consisted of filling up my already overflowing head with more information.

Along the lines of acculturation, here’s something sweet that happened today: I walked into a local spot to get a shawarma sandwich (I’m tired of paying $6 for hummus at the hotel). I’m guessing women don’t typically come into the spot, but they were gracious and wanted to make me as comfortable as possible. I had a seat and ordered a spicy chicken shawarma sandwich. The waiter, who is Indian, asked me if I wanted fresh juice. I shook my head no and smiled, which was a tricky thing to do. He looked at me, my brown skin and features that could pass for Indian, and figured I meant “yes” because in India, when you shake your head back and forth, it means “yes.” Thinking I wanted a fresh juice, he brought me a menu. After I had gone through the whole thing, I assuredly said “no thank you” (with a smile, minus the head shake).

And a bit about Eid (holidays): I don’t understand how I’m supposed to plan a trip during the holiday when the exact date of the Eid is determined by the moon’s visibility. Umm…for real? Being here will teach me a lot about letting go and going with the flow.

Also, I think I need to learn a South Asian language because the population is overwhelmingly from the sub-continent. Wouldn’t that be cool? I move to the Gulf and learn Hindi!